Framed in a Stare: Two – Mirrors and Denials

"“Her mistake was stalling in front of the mirror — the only witness to the truths she leaked while still trying to deny them."

She was arched like a fucking bow. Fingertips soaked. Fucking herself hard enough to slap sound off the walls. Slick, loud, desperate.Not rhythm, not grace—just pure, ragged need.Her forehead dragged against the mirror. Her breath fogged a wide bloom across...

Framed in a Stare: One – Garage and Cacti

"That wasn’t sweat leaking down her spine—it was the first flicker of knowing she was going to be fucked, whether she wanted to admit it or not."

Some habits are so ingrained in people that you could easily label them as compulsions. I was halfway through my routine when she arrived—slightly flustered, barely exchanging looks, smiles, or words with anyone. Determined.Still, it was enough for me to...